


Three Times He Got Himself Off and One Time He Didn't

by quamquam20



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Ficlet Collection, Force Bond (Star Wars), Kink Smorgasboard, Light Bondage, Masochism, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Smut, notes of angst with a crisp fluff finish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 11:33:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19208548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quamquam20/pseuds/quamquam20
Summary: Like a tiny box of four chocolates, but the chocolates are all Reylo porn.





	Three Times He Got Himself Off and One Time He Didn't

* * *

 

1.

 

She was gone.

He was furious at himself for letting her escape. She'd been in the same cell he was standing alone in. She'd been on the other side of their lightsabers, trapped against an impossible cliff. He'd never let it happen again.

Kylo tapped a finger against his gouged cheek and the flash of pain was perfect. He locked the blaster door behind him. Because wasn't that his favorite? Right between when the bleeding stopped and when healing really started. Lust slithered down his spine. He was so fucked up and he knew it. He _liked_ it.

He ran a gloved hand over the chair in the middle of the cell. Fuck, she'd been _right there_. Her skin had heated the metal. For a second, he imagined that he could smell her again. Warmth. Some nameless spiciness that lingered. She'd smelled like ancient deserts and sun-baked earth, but with something animalistic underneath. He imagined her writhing, not sure if he liked it more when she was struggling or when her eyes flashed with sudden, unexpected viciousness.

Struggling, Kylo decided. Right now he liked that. He'd liked watching her before she woke up. He'd let himself stare. He wanted to thread his fingers through her hair, squeezing and pulling until she cried out. He wanted to dig around in her mind again and not care if it hurt her. He wanted to see where she kept him. Maybe with the things that lived in shadows. Definitely filed away with all the other monsters.

He was uncomfortably hard. A flick of his hand dimmed the lights in the small room. He never liked to do it with the lights too bright. Felt too exposed.

He remembered how her sweat had slicked her skin, how much he'd wanted to taste her. She had felt so warm when he'd carried her through the forest. He gripped himself and the images and memories came faster as he moved. How much he'd love to make her clench her jaw and shake again. How roughly he wanted to grab her face and make her look at him. How he wanted to bite her shoulder while he took her from behind, wanted to slam her onto a table and push into her. He just wanted to be in her. He didn't care where or how or for how long. He wanted to lean down and hear absolutely every tiny sound that came out of her mouth.

He was getting close and the thoughts were more violent, more frenzied and unformed. The length of his lightsaber hilt sliding along her lips. Spitting thickly onto his fingers and cramming them into her ass until her eyes rolled back. His arm hooked around her waist, mouth on her clit and sucking hard, making her move like she'd been shocked. Keeping his cock in the back of her throat until she coughed and gagged.

In the darkened room, he balanced on the edge. Another fucked up thing he loved. He let go of his cock, hand hovering in the air while he twitched. Full body heaves that made him ache with wanting. When it subsided, he gave two quick pumps.

He wanted her back in the cell. He wanted her to hear him, wanted her in his head again so she could feel the explosion from the inside. Her in restraints. Him shivering because he was so close again and he would live there if he could. He wanted to be all over her. In her hair, on her clothes. On her lips.

And he was over the edge in a second, groaning in the empty room.

 

* * *

 

 

2.

 

He leaned until his forehead was against the cool shower wall and took a shuddering breath. He didn't usually do this so often. More of an occasional indulgence, since he liked the way the fire built up in him when he didn't have a release.

But she was haunting him. Soft cloth and deep eyes. Mostly her eyes, the color of a bottomless, cold ocean. He could fall into them. When he woke up in the middle of his bed, he wished he could slide over to her. He'd pin her arms over her head. He'd crush her mouth with his, thrusting until their bodies moved together.

His toes started to curl like they did before things became inevitable. He could still stop if he wanted to. He thought about her hands, her back, her feet. Her whole body. When he'd carried her, he'd been so aware of every single place they touched. The entire line of her body across his, her head rolling against his arm.

Warm water from the shower filled his mouth and he spit it out, ran his free hand over his face and shook his hair back. She'd felt muscular, even through all the layers of fabric between them. He imagined her squeezing him with her legs, clenching and releasing. He wanted her to hit him.

He moved faster, urged on by the thought of it. His other hand was cupping and grabbing and pulling until it hurt. Her anger washing over him. Her kicking and scratching and yelling. He loved it. He wanted her furious, telling him how much she hated him. He wanted to tell her what to do and he wanted her to ignore it. He wanted to make her listen. He would dip into her mind and feel her rage again, swim in it, her own particular kind. It felt like something cut open and bleeding and but somehow getting stronger. It was pulsing and alive. It was the best he'd ever felt.

He came with open-mouthed panting.

 

* * *

 

3.

 

He was on his back, digging his heel into the bed to push up harder into his hand when all of the sound was sucked out of the room.

“Fuck!” Panic washed over him as he scrambled to cover himself with the dark sheet. “Fuck, why now?” Kylo hadn't been able to figure out yet exactly when they could start to hear each other. He also couldn't decide if it was better or worse to stand, so he crouched, almost-sitting, and held his hand out like he could stop it.

“Do you have _any_ shirts?” Rey sounded half frustrated, half suspicious.

“You need to leave,” he said and as soon as the words left his mouth, he knew they made little sense. “Or turn around,” he added.

“I've already seen you shirtless.” She didn't move, taking in his flushed face and sheen of sweat. Their eyes locked. “Are you ok? You look like-”

“I'm fine,” he said sharply. Her looking at him like that was keeping him hard. He ducked down and pretended to search around his bed for something. Anything. “I was just...” 

Rey's eyebrows shot up with sudden understanding and she blushed.

“Oh.” She spun around. “I'm sorry, I had no idea.”

“It's fine,” he said, more gently this time. It wasn't like they had any control over the connection, at least not yet. He flopped back onto the bed and looked at the air vent on the ceiling. “We might as well talk. These seem to be lasting longer the more we do it.”

There was a long pause. Kylo lifted his head to see if she was still there. She was. He saw her shoulders drop, like she'd decided something.

“You don't have to stop,” she said finally and the words went right to his cock.

His tongue suddenly felt thick in his mouth but he had to hear her say it again. Otherwise he'd never believe it.

“What?” he asked quietly.

She turned her head to the side, back still to him.

“I said you don't have to stop. Just because I'm here.”

His breath left him all at once and his hand slid under the thin black sheet around his waist.

“Stop what?” he asked and his voice caught at the end. His fingertips slipped through the silky, clear precum at the tip of his cock.

“What you're doing,” Rey answered.

“And what am I doing?”

Her exhale was uneven and she didn't answer.

“Come on, Rey,” he urged as his hand worked slowly. The longing was unbearable. “What am I doing?”

“I can't see you,” she said.

“Is that what you want? To not see me?”

“No,” she said, so quiet that it was almost a whisper in his ear.

She turned around carefully, her gaze fixed on the ground between them at first. He couldn't stop the sigh that turned into a moan. Her eyes slid up his body, lingering on the movement under the dark fabric. He sat up, their eyes met, and he was lost.

Rey cleared her throat.

“What do you think about?” she asked. “Murdering people?”

He felt a tiny twitch at the side of his mouth. She probably wouldn't even register it as a smile.

“Sometimes,” he said.

Her face darkened.

“But not lately,” he went on. “I'm sure you can guess.”

She was still scowling.

“I really can't."

“Rey,” he whispered and he stopped moving. Her eyes softened. “You.”

She didn't look away.

“What about me?” she asked.

He started stroking himself again, slow and easy.

“Everything. Everything about you. Doing everything to you. Everything you've done to me.” It felt good to tell her. It felt good to watch her reaction. “I can't stop. I want you constantly and I don't know how to fix it.”

She moved closer.

“Do you think about me trapped in that chair?” she asked.

Kylo squeezed his eyes shut briefly and moved his fisted hand faster.

“I never touched you but I wanted to.”

“What about when I cut you?” she asked. She sounded curious and proud.

He hissed through his teeth.

“Yes,” he said.

Surprised shot across her face.

“Whatever you're going to ask next, the answer is yes,” he said. “I promise.” It was getting hard to talk. He'd been close when she'd showed up and now he was past that. The sheet wasn't covering his lap anymore and Rey was staring. He looked up at her and the echoing sound of his breathing filled the room.

“Can I...?” His question trailed off into a sharp exhale. He couldn't hide how fast it was happening. He fumbled for the sheet.

She nodded.

His movements were deliberate and rough, every stroke building up to something enormous. When he got there, he couldn't breathe at all. It tore through his body in huge waves that felt like they went on forever. He thought he heard Rey say something quietly, but it was so distant that he couldn't be sure.

When it was over, she was gone.

 

* * *

 

 

4.

 

In the months after Crait, the bond only rarely flickered. Never strong enough to catch more than a word or two before the connection was severed. He assumed Rey was blocking it somehow and sometimes at night he'd try nudging it. Thinking about her was excruciating. The bond didn't feel dead. It was more like a river that had been slowed to a trickle by an upstream dam. He'd thought of so many things to say to her that he couldn't remember them all.

He'd thrown himself into training to distract himself, too restless to sit in the throne room for long. He paced and stood, looking out through the windows that he left uncovered. Liberated by Snoke's absence, he felt himself getting stronger. Not killing Hux was a daily challenge.

He was thankful that he was standing alone in his private room when the bond finally connected.

She faced him, looking unsurprised.

He took two steps toward her.

“Rey. I've been trying,” he started.

“I know,” she said simply, without warmth.

“You blocked it.” Not a question. He already knew.

“I did.”

He wasn't expecting the confirmation to sting so much. He started to take another step in her direction when he hit an invisible, solid wall. He reached a hand out to feel it but his arms were pulled behind him, wrists bound together by air.

He couldn't hide his shock. She looked focused but comfortable. She'd obviously gotten much stronger too. He flexed his fingers and discretely tested the resilience of the hold. It wasn't very tight but it was unmoving.

“I missed you,” he said. It was the one thing he was sure he had to tell her. It struck him at the strangest times.

She didn't respond.

A feeling like fingers brushed against his leg through his pants.

“Rey-”

Slowly, the sensation moved up his thigh. He closed his eyes, feeling himself getting hard. It had been a while and he felt full.

A tugging at his waistband, sliding his pants down. He tried to move his arms, knew he could probably break free if he really wanted to. But he wouldn't stop her. Not yet. The warm air of the room swirled around his exposed cock. Careful touching on his legs and hips, almost tickling, before running up his chest and across his shoulders. Caressing his neck and playing with his hair. He was watching Rey, taking her in. The effort of it was just starting to show. Her breathing picked up.

A gripping around his cock brought him back. He groaned and glanced down. Nothing visible wrapped around him but he could feel the ridges of her fingers, the movement of her palm as she worked. Smooth, steady strokes and he could already feel an orgasm starting to coil up, his stomach muscles tensing.

“This'll be fast,” he told her bluntly. “I wish you could see yourself right now.”

The strokes kept coming and Rey was sweating with effort. He tested the binding again. A little more yielding, but still there. The grip on him shifted to move faster over the head of his cock and he thrust into it.

“Just like that,” he said. It sounded like begging and he was already there.

He came so hard that it felt like his whole body was pumping it out of him, through the empty air to land between them. The stroking slowed but didn't stop, pulling out every drop and sending jolts of pleasure through his legs. He kept moaning. Suddenly it was too much and he struggled hard against the wrist binding, too unfocused to escape. He choked off a sobbing sound. She kept going, watching him shake.

He felt something else building in the middle of the chaos, a sharp and raw pleasure that was jagged around the edges. He couldn't look away from her dark eyes.

“Do it again or stop,” he told her through gritted teeth.

Her control slipped and she released his wrists. He immediately knocked back the feeling of her hand on his cock and pushed hard through the bond while he pulled his pants up. Rey took a stumbling step backwards, exhausted. Fear flashed behind her eyes and he realized that she was too drained to fight back. She grasped weakly for a holstered blaster.

He reached out, cupped his hand and gently moved his thumb, knowing that she could feel it stroking her cheek across the distance. She froze.

He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to pull her over to him and wrap his arms around her. He craved it so viscerally, so completely, that it drowned out everything else. He moved closer.

She closed her eyes and leaned into the feeling of his hand until his touch replaced it. She tipped her head back and he stopped to drink her in, in the last second before he pressed his lips to hers. A quiet, soft kiss that still somehow caught him off-guard, filling something nameless in him.

Rey broke the kiss first, leaning back and taking his hand. He searched her face but her expression was unreadable.

“I'll see you in a few days,” she told him. Her voice was unsteady but kind.

And he was standing alone in his room.

 

* * *

 


End file.
